


King and Lionheart

by AslansCompass



Category: Agents of S.H.I.E.L.D. (TV)
Genre: AU, Gen, Merlin AU, more than 5k
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-09-29
Updated: 2015-09-25
Packaged: 2018-04-20 21:09:50
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 2,743
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4802300
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AslansCompass/pseuds/AslansCompass
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Leo had no idea what to expect when he arrived at Camelot. Sure, he was planning to served with Coulson, the court physician, but he didn't know about Coulson's daughter Skye, or Skye's best friend Jemma, the king's ward. He certainly wasn't expecting to end up serving the crown prince, Grant. Who, let's be honest, is kind of a git. Which wouldn't be so bad if certain...beings...didn't keep insisting that his destiny is to serve Grant and bring about a golden age.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [laangol](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=laangol).



Leo stood on tiptoe, searching through the crowd for Skye or Coulson. Half a dozen knights were leading the mission to Westfields, but it was the masons, carpenters, and almoner who would perform most of the work. Distinguishing any one person in the chaos would have been difficult enough, but the mild-mannered physician who was his mentor was an expert at blending into the background.  
"Excuse me, pardon me, coming through, please," Leo ducked and wove his way through the crowd.  
"Watch where you're going, boy," one of the knights snapped.  
"Sorry, sorry." At least it wasn't the prince. Grant would have come up with some additional chore for him--and did, at the slightest provocation. Leo bobbed in apology and looked around again--ah, there he was.  
"Let's see, do I have everything?" Coulson rummaged through his satchel again. "Butter, linen, honey, aloe, hyssop, St. John's wort..."  
"Everything else is loaded with the baggage." Skye confirmed. "You'll only be gone a few days, right?"  
"It might be longer. We have no idea what sort of conditions we'll find. The messenger only said that there'd been a fire--we have no idea what shape the village or the people are in."  
"But it's less than a day's walk. I could keep up. And I could be useful to you. I can mix poultices and grind herbs and I could even wash bandages if you needed me to--"  
"Which is why you need to stay here," Coulson interrupted firmly. "I'm counting on you to take care of anything that comes up while I'm gone."  
"Leo's your apprentice. Please? I've never been that far away from Camelot before." She bounced on her toes, tilting her head like a stray puppy.  
"It's pretty much the same as here. Ah, Leo, there you are," Coulson waved his apprentice over. "I see you made it through the chaos in one piece."  
"Mostly."  
"Skye will handle most of my work while I'm gone, but I'll be depending on both of you to keep things running smoothly."  
"I'm in charge?" Skye's dark eyes gleamed.  
"Don't get too excited. I'll still be working for his highness." Leo muttered. "Anything you would order me to do would be a joy next to that."  
"If you're finished," Coulon asked. "Messengers will be headed back and forth from Westfields regularly; send me news if there's anything you can't handle. But I'm not expecting any trouble. I know both of you can handle the responsibility."

* * *

 

Leo stood in the grand hall behind the high table. Of all his duties, he found this the most ridiculous: cutting up meat and pouring wine for someone who was perfectly capable of doing so himself. Not to mention doing so in perfect silence. He normally ended up replaying the whole situation later with vivid commentary for Skye's amusement.

"...vary the guard rotation until this matter is settled.  Shorter shifts, but more of them. With some of our knights away, we must continue to demonstrate our strength."

"Is that necessary, Father?" Grant toyed with a partridge thigh. "We are at peace, after all."

"That's what an enemy would want you to think," the king replied in a low tone. "And we do have enemies, son."

"Twenty years ago. Magic's been outlawed ever since." 

Servers brought out another course, roast duck in last year's plum sauce.

"If there's anything we should be concerned about, it's the farmers and workers who may have lost their homes.  Even if there's time to plant again, will they have enough supplies?" Jemma interrupted.

"The safety of Camelot is my concern, and my son's. Not yours." Garrett motioned for someone to refill his goblet.

Jemma pressed her lips in a thin line. "There are other threats than swords and magic.  Hunger and sickness can fell a man regardless of his allies."  She rose from the table. "Now, if you'll excuse me."

"Stubborn girl." Garrett muttered. "I've indulged her whims far too much.  She may not be my blood, but there are rules, standards for her position.  Perhaps if I'd engaged a governess, instead of leaving it to Coulson...."

* * *

\----

 "...position, position, position," Jemma punctuated each syllable with a grind of the pestle. "He's the one who doesn't consider my position. As a baron's daughter, I might not be worth much as a wife, but as the king's ward," she paused to add some more herbs to the bowl. 

"That's enough," Skye cautioned. "Any finer and I won't be able to mix the proportions correctly." She took down a bundle of dried mint and began untying the knotted twine. 

"He was talking about a governess as I left."

"At our age?" 

"No, of course not. Things he should have done. I left before he started saying things about 'below my station.' One of these days I might just punch him."

"The king?"

"No, of course not, pudding-brain." Jemma snorted. "Grant."

"Wouldn't recommend that," Skye said as she took the bowl away from Jemma. "Besides, aren't you two supposed to get married, eventually."

Both girls scowled. "No thank you," Jemma winced. 

"Someone will have to."

"Are you volunteering?"

"No," Skye gagged. "Besides, I don't think His Royal Highness wants a bride who spends her days mixing up poultices and feeding old men oatmeal."

"And stitching up men after tournaments."

"Leo can have that job.  It wouldn't be so bad if they were young, or handsome, or at least clean," Skye added. "But most of them are old enough to be my uncles, if not grandpas."

"Well then, we shall just have to recruit some younger ones." Jemma declared.  "Brown hair, not grey."

"Tanned skin,"

"Not too tall."

"Or muscled."

"What's wrong with muscles?" Leo asked as he came through the doorway.

"Oh, nothing as far as you're concerned." Skye teased. "Come on, I need you to help carry things for the rounds."

"It'll have to wait."

"Oh it will, will it? Remember what Father said? I give the orders around her."

"In this room, sure." Leo walked back out the door.  "But in the rest of this castle, it's His Royal Highness Grant who gives the orders. And his orders are that we accompany him on a spring ride."

"Oh, I forgot," Jemma brushed her hands together. "We always go out to the meadow the first full moon after thaw. "

"Fine, I can do  everything myself." Skye snapped. 

"I'll help you when we get back,"  Jemma offered. "Please, Skye? It's not the same without you."

"Can I sneak something into Grant's drink?"

"Like what?" Leo asked.

"Oh, sleeping draught,  vinegar...enema..."

"Children, children, children," Jemma tried to sound stern, but her eyes twinkled. "Maybe later?" 

 


	2. Chapter 2

"What do you mean, you don't know how to ride a horse?" 

"You don't either," Skye huffed, yanking on the donkey's reins.

"Well, yes but you went on progress and everything, I've heard you and Jemma talking."

"Progress, despite the title, involves very little progressing. The horses are bred for baggage, not racing. Besides," she ducked to avoid a low-hanging branch.  "We spent half the time picking berries, wheedling the cooks, and making right nuisances of ourselves."  

"What are you doing back there? You're supposed to be following me, not hanging out with her," Grant shouted back at them. 

Leo cursed under his breath. "If I didn't know better, I'd think he planned this to make me look foolish." 

"Leo!" Grant hollered again. "Get your skinny arse up here."

Leo turned his heels in, trying to nudge his mount to greater speeds. It worked for a moment, but the beast was soon distracted by a clump of daisies.  Besides, it wasn't as if this shaggy, greying mare could so much as keep in site of Jemma's gelding or Grant's mount.  Even in the brief ride from the stables to the main gate, he'd trailed several ells behind. "Can you see them?" he asked Skye.

"Well, that patch of green could be Jemma's cloak...or it could just be a bush," she squinted into the distance.  "Let's just meet them at the meadow.  Even I might get lost in there."

* * *

"Shouldn't we wait for the others?" Jemma asked. She eased up on the reigns, slowing her mount to a gentle walk.

"Worried?" Grant turned in the saddle to look back at her. 

"Your father wouldn't be pleased if he knew we were unchaperoned. "

"I won't tell him."

"Someone will. Let's at least wait for Leo, please?"

Grant chortled. "Sure, we can eat apples while we wait."  

The white blossoms fluttered as a thrush landed on the branch.

"What did you do?"

"It's not my fault he didn't have the sense to ask for a better mount.  Sure, Gretchen's not likely to run away with a new rider, but neither is a pile of glue." In fact, the only the reason the mare was still around was that Jemma and Skye had refused to see their old friend put down. 

Jemma nudged her horse in the side. "Walk on, Chestnut. Walk on."

"Come on, it was just a bit of fun."

She ignored him. 

"He's not going to get hurt."

Jemma pulled up her hood. She'd known Grant all their lives, but that didn't mean she enjoyed his haughtiness.  "I think it would be best if I were to proceed on my own. If you'll excuse me, your highness." 

She spurred Chestnut in a trot, quickly disappearing down the path. 

Grant sighed and followed her. 

* * *

 

"Jemma, wait--Jemma, it was just a tease--Jemma--" Grant wasn't sure if she heard him. In fact, he wasn't sure if they were even on the same path. There were several ways to get to the meadow, some more overgrown than others, and he wasn't a tracker.  Sunlight filtered through the half-budded branches,  diffusing into a soft golden glow.  "Jemma?" he called one more time, but the only response came from a chipmonk to his left. It ran out to the end of a branch, cocked its head at him, and scampered away.

He dismounted and led his horse by the reins.  The light seemed clearer to his left, so he headed in that direction. As he walked, the trees thinned out, slowly changing from a dense forest to a broad glade. The ground began to slope downhill, with trickles of melting water running over last fall's leaves.  

A faint hum filled the air. It didn't sound like any bird or instrument Grant had ever heard or imagined. The hair on the back of his neck stood on end. Whatever this was, it was filling the air, subtly altering the light.  As he rounded a corner, Grant came across something he couldn't understand. 

It was, for lack of a better word, a hole. But not a cave or a crevice or a rotting tree.  It was a hole, something ripped out of the wood like a a worn cloak.  "Jemma?" he called again, but without the exasperation. "Jemma, you might want to see this?"

"She has," a voice said behind him. "She was quite transfixed by it."  

Grant whirled around.

It looked like Jemma, but the voice was quite different. And the eyes had a glowing, enticing sheen that he had never seen from his father's ward, especially not directed at him. "What are you?" He felt automatically for his sword before remembering that he had left it in the castle.

"Why should I explain myself to you?" The figure reached out and placed its hand on his head.

Everything went white. 


	3. Chapter 3

"... don't really think about it, any more than you think about what color your hair is, " Skye took a blanket off her horse and set it on the damp ground. "Once in a while, strangers comment on it, but it's not that bad."

Leo shrugged. "People will always find a reason to be cruel. "

"Some people more than others."

"Such as his highness," Leo muttered.  "If he were born in a stable, he'd just boast of a studded pedigree."

"Where is he, anyway? I thought they'd arrive ages before us, especially since Gretchen went lame."

"Sorry, if I'd known--"

"How would you have recognized the signs anyway?" She looked around. "If they aren't here soon, we should go looking for them."

"No such luck." Two mounted figures emerged from the woods.

The other members of the party burst into activity, setting out food. 

"Your Highness--"

"Your ladyship--"

"Something to drink?"

"Let me see to your horse, sire," a groom reached for the bridle. 

"No need," Grant barked. "We're heading back to the castle."

"What?"

"You dare to question me?"

"No, of course not."  

"Then move out.  I don't intend to wait."

"Something's set a burr under his saddle," Leo muttered.

Skye folded up the blanket, tucked it into the sidebags, and handed the reigns to Leo. "You ride back. I'll walk Gretchen."

"What?"

She reached into the satchel and pulled out some cloth bundles. "I should put some ointment on that leg and wrap it too.  You shouldn't be heading back in the dark; you'll get lost."

"And you won't?"

"We're not that far from Westfields.  Two hours, maybe three. I'll stay there tonight and come back in the morning."

"And the patients?"

"You can take care of them."

"What? The beadle's bunions and the midwife's corns and--"

"Or you could follow Grant around all day."

Leo shut his mouth.

"I thought you might see it that way."

"Won't you want a torch?"

"Even if it takes me that long, the moon will be out. I'll be fine. Now, get going." 

Leo mounted awkwardly. "I'll see you tomorrow, then."

 

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, I wasn't expecting that. Really wasn't expecting that. Okay, that's one way to solve the increasing Skye-Leo focus of this fic.


	4. Chapter 4

By the time Leo returned to the castle, the sun was hiding behind the towers of Camelot, painting the white stone like melting wax. He led Skye's horse to the stable, following the groom's instructions to remove the saddle, blankets, and bridle.  

"She run off and leave you with the mess?" the boy asked.

"Not exactly."

"Girls," he nodded knowingly. "Nothing but trouble."

"How would you know?"

"Sisters. _Six_ sisters, all younger."

Leo shrugged. "They're not all bad."

"Just wait until they start following you. You'll see." The boy's voice squeaked. "I can't go anywhere without someone battering her eyelashes at me, asking for favors.

"Right." Leo wouldn't have guessed the boy was old enough to even blush. "Well, things to do." 

* * *

Jemma wasn't sure which part of her hurt the most, but there were plenty of options to chose from. Her hands were bound behind her with metal chains no thicker than her thumbs,  her ankles were wrapped together with similar chains, and her back was pressed against a tree.  There had been a light...and something that looked like a person. But it couldn't have been a person, because she stepped out of a tree. And not a thick, heavy oak that was worth climbing, but a slender sapling, no higher than her shoulder.

And then it had rippled, like looking into pool of water, and she was staring at herself, down to a snagged thread on her sleeve.  Before she could react,  a force like ice water washed over her. 

She hadn't moved since.  The spell hadn't affected her sight or hearing, so she forced herself to pay attention as more people came out of the wood and bound her. Perhaps a half hour later, Grant came, and the person who had taken her form lured him off the path and bound him as well.

Grant didn't say anything, but Jemma wasn't sure if he didn't notice her or was simply unable to speak.  The sun set and the stars came out.

So, there was still magic in the kingdom, despite the king's instance to the contrary. Somehow, it had escaped the purges twenty years ago.  The most likely scenario was that any magicians had disbanded and lived in disguise, as defeated soldiers might.  And now they were back for revenge. 

Except neither she nor Grant had been hurt.  Even if she wasn't considered a threat, Grant was the heir, a prime target.  

It had taken her form.   Another one had imitated Grant.

Spies. 

Jemma would have gasped, but the spell held firm.  With those disguises, why bother with an army?  The magicians could infiltrate Camelot, walk right into the throne room and kill the king. If that was their plan. They could just as easily have 'Grant' bring in new magicians under false pretenses, as servants or courtiers or knights.   Even 'Jemma' could undermine stability.

 

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I apologize for the delay in this chapter, but it will be a 5k fic eventually. Promise.


End file.
